


Melting Wax

by Punkin_Carcass



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Background Relationships, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Nerd, M/M, Nonbinary Kozume Kenma, Not Canon Compliant, POV Kozume Kenma, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Sugawara Koushi is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkin_Carcass/pseuds/Punkin_Carcass
Summary: Kenma doesn’t know what to expect at a boarding school. He doesn’t expect the prank wars, or people to actually like him, or to reconnect with his former best-friend.He certainly doesn’t expect waking up to a warm body one morning.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> I made this fic out of pure spite for the mischaracterization of these two. I have also never written fic before, so any constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.

The first thing Kenma decides upon stepping out of his mom’s Honda Civic is that he hates this school already. It’s Saturday afternoon. Everything is loud and bright, random kids roaming the well-kept and clearly high-budget lawn. Obnoxiously colored buildings rise above the lawns and kids; large block letters note what each is for.

He shuts the car door, so does his mom. She hurries around the car and pops the trunk, reaching for Kenma’s suitcase. Kenma rushes to help; the case is half the size she is.

“I don’t see why-”

“Don’t try to argue with me about this.” His mom says, sternly. She’s using the same tone of voice that she usually saves for his cousins when they misbehave. Her eyes are sharp, the same golden color as his.

Kenma just nods and shuts the trunk after getting his stuff out. His phone died on the drive over. The lack of something to hold, something to look at, makes him shift uncomfortably. Hands find pockets, eyes meet floor. In his peripheral, his mom pinches the bridge of her nose. She stops tensing.

“Sorry.” Kenma mutters.

“No, no, I should apologize to you.” She grabs his arm and yanks him into a hug. A rather awkward one because of the height difference, but warm. He’ll miss it. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t your first choice, but it’s the best option right now. Your aunt getting sick...It threw us all off.”

“I get it.” Kenma says, pretending he does.

“Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never been away from home like this before and I-”

“Don’t worry, mom.” He pulls away, extending the handle of his suitcase and wheeling it to the curb. She trails after, picking his bag out of the passenger’s side floor and handing it over.

You see, Kenma has a plan for how to survive in a place like this. Keep his head down in the halls, don’t join any clubs, and find some possible way to avoid his roommate, who will, undoubtedly, be annoying. He has the schoolwork down; he’s already a grade above what he should be. It’s the challenge of never being able to completely disappear. That’s what he’s been best at, ever since childhood: melting into corners, forming into the background, being invisible.

Well, mostly. If it wasn’t for that one dude who always stuck to his hip.

“Do you want me to walk you to the dorm?” She asks, though already knowing the answer by the way Kenma looks down. He has nothing against his mom...he would just prefer his first interaction with his roommate not to be watching his mom sob. “So is this goodbye?”

“Just until November.” When her face doesn’t lift, Kenma puts a hand on her shoulder. “You can call me whenever.”

“I know.” She hugs him again. “You know where the dorm is?”

“I have a map.”

“Alright…”

One more squeeze. One peck on the cheek. Two “I love you”’s. Kenma has to tell his mom not to cry, then he finally lobs his suitcase over the curb and makes his way across the campus.

He gets a few curious looks from people, and a loud guy with a shaved head almost rams into him at one point, but for the most part, Kenma keeps his eyes focused on the map. The dorm buildings are away from most of the academic ones, near the back of campus. They’re probably the only buildings that haven’t been renovated to look newer; grey brick and vines trailing six stories up make them stick out in comparison to everything else. Kenma goes left, to the male dorm. An older kid with smart, black hair holds the door open as he drags his suitcase in. He gives Kenma a welcoming smile, tells him where to find his dorm, and is subsequently dragged away by a friend.

Room 314. He only remembers because of Pi. He takes the elevator up, happy that there was no one else there. The halls are seemingly empty, apart from occasional music seeping out from under doors, and everything is quiet when Kenma finds his room. He twists the knob, and as soon as the door is open, he’s hit with the unmistakable smell of Old Spice. Kenma flinches away, narrowing his eyes. He slides into the room, leaving the door cracked, then rests his gaze on his roommate’s desk, where a large, crumbling ball of something sits, a suspicious off-white.

“What...the _fuck_.” He says aloud.

He covers his mouth and nose with a hoodie sleeve, then sprints to open the window above the desk, dropping his bag on the floor and leaving his suitcase. Kenma coughs numerous times, being in such a close proximity with this...deodorant...ball? What kind of psychopath roommate did he have?

In the midst of trying to direct air out the window, loud footsteps began to echo down the hall, getting closer and closer until—

“Kur—“ then a pause. Kenma turned around and met eyes with a grey-haired kid, maybe a year older than himself. “Who are you?”

Kenma froze in place, eyes wide. The older guy stood just as still, but was eyeing back and forth between him and the ball. He raised an eyebrow, prompting a response. “Kenma Kozume. I just got here.”

“Ohhhh,” the dude strode across the room and grabbed Kenma’s hand. “Koshi Sugawara! Are you in your second year?” He nodded, but fantasized about retracting his neck so far into his shirt, he would look like a turtle.

“That’s odd, they usually don’t let 2nd and 3rd years share a dorm.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No! Not at all! It’s just that generally, when the years mix...uh—“

“Chaos?”

“Yep.” Sugawara released their hands and rubbed the back on his neck. “For the guys, anyway. My pal Kiyoko is sharing a dorm with a first year. They seem to get along just fine,”

Kenma nodded again. Small talk was his worst nightmare. He’d rather just sit in silence. Sugawara seemed to notice his discomfort. His eyes locked onto the deodorant ball again.

“Is that...yours?”

The upperclassman grinned mischievously. He removed a gallon sized ziplock back from his pocket and popped it open. He rolled the ball into it then air locked it, pulling his phone out of nowhere to shoot a text. “Yeah, but not for long. Soon it’ll be in a box under Tanaka’s bed.”  
  
Kenma backs away slowly.

“Have fun.”

“Oh, I will. Be sure to find me if you need help with anything.” Sugawara winks, gives a two fingered salute, and dips out of the room and down the hall.

With the horrible smell mostly gone, (though it still lingered,) he picked his bag back and tossed it on the bare bed, scanning the room. The beds were barely three feet apart, and it seemed his roommate took the one on the same wall as the door, the other adjacent. He notices the rather obvious Star-Wars sheets and posters of a bunch of science stuff of the walls. So his roommate was a huge nerd? Well, same, but also _ugh_. Two in the same environment would be horrible.

He retrieved his suitcase, shutting the door on the way. His mom had neatly folded his clothes and sorted them by color. Kenma disregards this and puts everything away in the storage spaces under the bed. It seemed too small on the bed side of the room, and that way probably because, judging by the scratches on the floor, the beds had been moved to make room for an absolutely hideous couch that took up an entire wall. How did they even get that up here? Kenma wondered if his roommate found it on the side of a road somewhere.

He plugs his phone in, then lays on the still bare bed, staring at the ceiling.

The loading bar to process exactly what had happened had filled up. His aunt got sick, they needed room to take care of her, and the “best” option was shipping Kenma off. He didn’t _mind_ necessarily, but it annoyed him that everyone tried to sugar-coat it. He wasn’t dumb, he didn’t need to be coddled.

And now he’s here. At a boarding school where parents drop their kids, guys hide Old Spice deodorant balls in each other’s rooms, and roommates didn’t even show u—

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice came from the doorway. Kenma jumped so hard he fell off the mattress, landing in the small space between beds. “Shit! Sorry dude,”

Kenma groaned, rubbing the elbow that had collided with the bed frame as he fell. There were footsteps; so heavy he could feel the vibrations. A hand that could engulf his own latched onto Kenma’s forearm, yanking him up awkwardly.

The first thing he saw when he straightened out were piercing hazel eyes. Well, eye. The other was covered by a clump of sharp, black hair.  
Kenma froze, and so did the other guy.

“You...look familiar,”

“Kuroo?”

“... _Kozume_?” He grins wide, genuine.

“Don’t call me that, dumbass.” As soon as the last sound leaves his mouth, Kenma is being picked up and swung in a circle by none other than Tetsurou Kuroo; childhood best friend.


	2. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things from childhood have changed, but the one things that remains the same is Kuroo’s primal need to annoy his friends and Kenma’s desire to lovingly kill Kuroo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is my first time writing fan fiction and publishing on ao3. If you have any constructive criticism, please let me know.

As Kenma was being put back down from the most bone-crushing hug he’d ever experienced, it all seemed to click. The sci-fi and obscure band posters were evidence enough, but as he glanced around, noticing more subtle things, it became extremely clear. Kuroo was talking (screeching) about something Kenma couldn’t keep up with, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He finally led Kenma over to the disgusting couch and the two sat, firing off questions for each other.

“Why are you here?”

“School, duh,” Kenma said. “How about you?”

“I’ve been here since first year! We haven’t seen each other in, how long was it, five years?” Kuroo hadn’t stopped grinning. The crooked nature of it was nostalgic; a smile he’d usually make after completely wrecking neighborhood kids in a game or giving a perfect report card to his parents. A smile of victory.

So why was he grinning like that for Kenma?

“Yeah, I guess it’s kinda crazy.” Don’t get him wrong, Kenma was happy too, but it was more of a surge of relief. There had been so many nights where he had stayed up, eyes dry from staring at the ceiling or his phone for hours, wondering about Kuroo. 

Did he look the same? Kinda. Still unnecessarily taller than Kenma, that rooster-like bedhead adding several more inches. He finally lost all that baby fat, though. He was sharp. Sharp jaw and teeth and eyes. If he didn’t actually know Kuroo, he would have been scared shitless, but this was the same kid who he’d let cry into his shoulder over Disney movies. Being scared of him was practically laughable at this point. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, though.” Kuroo says. He swings his feet up and sits cross legged on the couch. “Still got that dorky haircut.”

“You’re calling  _ me _ dorky? You probably still have the periodic table memorized,” he snaps.

Kuroo’s ears turn pink and he looks away. Hm. 11 year old Kenma would have had a stroke if he had been here: Kuroo was always stubborn with showing vulnerability.

“Whatever.” He grumbled, examining Kenma again, like he’s been doing for the past several minutes. “But the bleach looks cool, even on your greasy ass head.”

“Don’t forget I know where you sleep now.”

“Ah yes, I feel very threatened by a 5’2 goblin.”

“I’m 5’6 you insufferable douche,” 

Kenma shoves at his shoulder with a glare, but Kuroo is laughing. He’s falling backwards and  _ laughing.  _ Grabbing his ribs, wheezing, the whole thing. 

And, for a split second, Kenma basks in it. 

_ I missed this. I missed his laugh. _

Kuroo starts choking on air, and it brings Kenma back to reality. He takes a deep breath, trying to look grouchy when Kuroo straightens again.

“One day I’ll get you to laugh.” He states. His tone is serious all of the sudden, smile dropping. In his eyes, a fierce look of determination. What the fuck…

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had a system; one so perfect they were able to mold back into it instantly. Kuroo would joke, nudge Kenma with an elbow, giggle to himself, and Kenma would roll his eyes, secretly being amused. Not...whatever this is. Kenma didn’t laugh easy, it simply wasn’t his nature. When he almost does, he suppresses. 

“You can try all you want. That’s not a guarantee it’ll happen.” They make eye contact.

And it’s turned into a staring contest.

Eyes were Kenma’s favorite part of the human body. They revealed everything. Emotions, interest, intent— so many colors, too. And now red-hot butterscotch was searing into him, playful and daring.

“You’re a dick.” Kuroo blinks and looks away first. 

“Better than not having a backbone.” Kenma shrugs. “More fun, too, I suppose.”

“I’m gonna make you laugh. By the end of the semester, even.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Many things, my short, short friend.” He stands, stretching out like a cat. A series of pops come from Kuroo’s back. He ruffles Kenma’s hair, and the younger boy almost hisses. “I gotta head out; practice starts soon.”

“Practice for what?”

“Volleyball, of course.” He winks. “Told you I’d stick with it. You should tag along some time. The guys will love you.”

“I’d rather have an aneurysm, thanks. Plus I gotta unpack.” It actually sounds fun, but so many people all at once, somewhere he isn’t familiar with? No thanks, panic attack. Eh, doesn’t matter either way, Kuroo will definitely drag him at some—

“So I’ll see you Wednesday in the North Gym. Got it.” He grabs a bag by the door, winks again, and promptly fucks off. 

Of course. 

After the door shuts, Kenma catches the smell of his cologne. It’s like woodsmoke and spice. His ears turn a little pink. He slaps himself in the face and falls back on the couch.


	3. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma’s bed is unfamiliar. Kuroo’s is warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no set schedule of when I update.  
> If you have constructive criticism, please let me know.

It was late when Kuroo came back. Kenma was barely awake when he heard the gentle thud of a dropped bag and saw the blurred hallway lights on his chest. Kuroo was breathing heavily, as if he’d just run a mile. He hadn’t noticed the other’s consciousness, or if he did he didn’t say anything while changing clothes. 

Leaving the door open for light allowed Kenma to see almost everything, even in his half-dazed state. Kuroo peeled his shirt off, tossing it onto the couch (ew) to pick up in the morning, and without it, the prominent lines across his body glowed in the light. Not just the noticeable muscle that he had acquired over the years, but also the purple-ish ones that ran up his sides and danced along his biceps. 

Kenma had the same stripes, but they weren’t nearly as bad. He’d been small as a kid and he was small now. But Kuroo’s seemed like a bitter reminder. A sign that time had passed. Judging by the scowl on his face, he didn’t like them, either.

Kenma watches more, a little more awake now. Kuroo is struggling with finding his way around the room, and after getting lost in a shirt, he punches air and climbs into bed.

“You ‘k?” Kenma slurs out.

“Just tired. Go to bed.” He responds, bundling up tighter in his blanket.

“...y’ sure?”

“Yes, Kenma.” 

But he can’t. Nearly half an hour has passed and he’s on the verge of sleeping, but something is stopping him. He’s never been good with sleeping in beds that weren’t his own, or at  _ least _ familiar to him. His sheets didn’t feel right on this one. 

Kuroo was shaking like a leaf just a few feet away. His back was turned to Kenma, clutching the blanket like it would save his life. 

Kenma makes a decision: one fueled by his lack of impulse control when tired.

  
  


He wakes up warm, another body pressed into his. Kenma’s arms are wrapped tightly around Kuroo’s waist, forehead resting on his back. The other’s snoring was what woke him up. It echoed in his ears, and was kinda annoying.  _ That was...the best he’d slept in months. _

The sudden realization hits like a freight train.

Kenma pulls his arms back and almost falls off the bed. When Kuroo rustles and turns towards him, he actually  _ does _ fall. 

He learned from his last mistake, tucking limbs in so he doesn’t hit anything while falling. The air is knocked from his lungs.

Kuroo is suddenly wide awake, leaning down to look at him with wide eyes. “Holy shit you good?”

“Clearly...not…” Kenma coughs.  _ Did he remember? Did he even realize? _ “Help me—“

A hand is grabbing his own and yanking Kenma to his feet. It takes a few seconds for the room to stop spinning, but when it does, he can see the sunrise out the window. Kuroo is shivering again, wrapping himself in a blanket, blocking the view to his torso. Not that Kenma noticed...or cared.

“What the h-hell man?” Kuroo’s teeth chattered. 

“It’s not that cold, calm down and put a shirt on.” He doesn’t know why it came out so bitter, but he turns his back and hops into his own bed. The covers are freezing.

“What time is it?” Kuroo looks across the room, eyes landing on his bag and the outline of the phone in one of the pockets. He scowls, looking expectantly at Kenma. 

With the quick check of a screen, he’s disgusted to find out it’s not even 6am yet. He directs the phone at Kuroo, who leans in and squints at it like an old woman who’s half blind before groaning (more so screaming) in agony. He tosses the blanket aside and slides off the bed, crouching down to pull clothes out of the drawers under the bed. 

“What are you doing?”

“Bokuto wanted me to run with him today.”

Ignoring the fact that he had no clue who Bokuto was, Kenma asked, “right now?”

“He makes a group of guys get up early. Usually I don’t, but he asked.” Kuroo is fumbling around the room, grabbing stuff and shoving it into the drawstring bag he dropped last night. At least he has a shirt on at this point. 

“Can’t you just say no if you don’t want to?”

“I don’t wanna see his sad puppy-dog eyes in English tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll text you.” He’s about to walk out the door when Kenma grabs his wrist. 

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh shit, hold up.” He plucks Kenma’s phone right out of his hand and taps around for a bit before handing it back. “Cya!”

And then he’s gone.

Kenma tries to go back to sleep—in his own bed this time, but he can’t. The sheets are too cold, his mind is going too fast, everything is too unfamiliar. He shoots a text to his mom, though she’s probably still asleep. A simple reassurance, nothing more.

He plays a game on his laptop as a distraction.

It doesn’t work very well.

  
  



End file.
